


Someone Else

by rhetoricalrogue



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aging, Angst, Complete, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhetoricalrogue/pseuds/rhetoricalrogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was thought up after a discussion on Tumblr about Eskel and his romantic interests/love life.  Someone pondered what it would be for him to be in a long-distance relationship with a woman who aged at a faster rate than he did and voila.  This is set post-TW3, but there's not any actual reference to in-game events.</p><p>I kept the "her" in this purposely vague.  Not related to any of my other Eskel-centric pieces.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Six Years

**Author's Note:**

> This was thought up after a discussion on Tumblr about Eskel and his romantic interests/love life. Someone pondered what it would be for him to be in a long-distance relationship with a woman who aged at a faster rate than he did and voila. This is set post-TW3, but there's not any actual reference to in-game events.
> 
> I kept the "her" in this purposely vague. Not related to any of my other Eskel-centric pieces.

Eskel always did like traveling this way. There were blessedly few monsters, which was good for the folk who called this place home, but bad for his line of work. The weather was good, politics were relatively peaceful, and of course, there was _her_.

Her. He’d met her six years ago in his attempts to find a place to stay over the winter that didn’t involve crumbling towers or mountains or memories of days long gone by. She’d shared her home and her bed with him for several precious months before his feet had felt the need to once again wander. She had bid him farewell and told him that should he ever pass her way again, her door would be open.

It never failed that he’d find himself straying back every so often. He’d never stay for longer than a week or two each time, but her guileless smiles, her genuine delight at seeing him again, and the way she gasped his name as he drove into her made him feel things that he had no right to feel. Each time he left, he swore it would be the last, but then four or five months would roll by and there he was.

His mind was preoccupied with how she’d look now: had she cut her hair? Was she well? Unbidden, anxiety clawed at his gut. Would he still be welcome, or had she tired of waiting for him? Had she moved on, married and had children?

She would make a good mother, he knew it. His mind’s eye saw her with at least two chubby, happy babies, one on each hip. No matter how many times he tried, he always saw them with a head full of inky black curls and warm brown eyes.

His own mother had brown eyes, that much he remembered. Vesemir had once said that Eskel had looked very much like her.

Shaking his head, he urged Scorpion down the road. Her little house wasn’t far.

He found her tending the small garden at the side of her home. She had straightened up to stretch her back, the back of her arm wiping at her brow. The late afternoon sun haloed her in light and made her hair shimmer. She turned at the sound of Scorpion’s hooves and shaded her eyes with her hand. It didn’t take her long to recognize him, a smile spreading across her face.

He dismounted and carelessly threw the reins over the fence, knowing that Scorpion wouldn’t stray. She let her rake clatter to the ground. Without saying anything, she reached out and took his hand, leading him inside.

They’d barely closed the door when he was upon her. Eskel pressed her against the wood and attacked her mouth with his in a messy, desperate kiss. It had taken him so long to actually get to the point where he could kiss her without worrying that his scars would repulse her, no matter how much she had assured him otherwise. Now, he craved the taste of her as a man dying of thirst craves water. He moaned into her mouth as she tunneled her hands in his hair and rolled her hips against his invitingly. One strong tug was all it took to hitch her up higher against the door, her legs wrapping around his hips and locking at the small of his back. They never wasted time fully undressing that first meeting: her dress was rucked up about her waist and the neckline pulled down to expose her breasts to his seeking hands and tongue, her undergarments quickly pushed to the side. His own clothing was unbuckled and unlaced only far enough as needed, his face pressed against her throat muffling the groan at finally, _finally_ being with her again. He took her there hard and fast, not stopping until both of them were breathless and spent.

It was much later when they finally made it to her bed, their clothes lying about the floor of her home in a scattered trail of gear, leather, and cloth. His fingers sifted through her hair as she rested her cheek against him, her ear pressed up against his chest and listening as the thundering beating of his heart slowed down to normal. “Hi,” he said, staring down at her.

He could feel her smile against his skin. “Hi,” she returned, tilting her head to kiss his heated flesh. Her hands began to idly wander, following the trail of familiar muscles and scars and stopping to learn the paths of new marks. He held her in his arms and bent his head to kiss her again. It was dark; he’d have to pull on his pants to get Scorpion settled in the tiny lean-to that served as a stable for her own horse soon.

But then she sighed contentedly and wrapped her leg over his. Her hair spilled over his shoulder and he really was too boneless to move. Holding her tighter, Eskel stifled a yawn. Closing his eyes for a little while wouldn’t hurt, right?

* * *

 

This time, he stayed for nearly a month. Their days still belonged to themselves: she would go into the village to run her usual errands before returning and tending to her own home. She’d once explained that it had belonged to her father, but the plague had taken him and her mother when she had been but nineteen. Her brother lived in a homestead not too far from her with his wife, but she had refused to abandon the family home to live with them.

Eskel spent much of his time roaming the countryside, looking for any signs of monster nests that might have sprung up since he had last visited. He cut down the few drowners or nekkers that he ran across, ensuring that the roads and the lands surrounding her village were safe. When he wasn’t out afield, he spent his time rethatching her roof and performing other tasks that required manual labor. He had to laugh at it all: it seemed that all of Vesemir’s lessons about repairs to Kaer Morhen were hard to put down. Repairs done, he spent his time hunting and fishing to help stock her cellar for the winter.

Yet while their days were spent doing their individual tasks, the nights truly belonged to them. It was a domestic sort of feeling to have a routine of dinner and conversation followed up by wine and reading by the fire. Either she would catch his eye first or he would look over the pages of his book to stare at her, but they almost always ended each night in a sated, sweaty tangle of limbs in her bed.

* * *

 

He woke one morning close to the end of the month and knew that his time with her was over, at least for now. He stared up at the ceiling and held her close, listening as she slowly rose from her slumber, her body stretching out luxuriously against his.

He turned them until he was on his side and she was on her back. “You should find someone else,” he quietly said, running his thumb against her cheek.

She blinked up at him before leaning up on her elbow. “Are you ending this?” The question wasn’t asked in a hysterical tone like some other woman might have asked it, nor was it angry. She was merely curious.

“I should,” he replied. “You deserve someone else, someone who can provide for you, give you a better life, a family.”

“If I wanted all of that, I would have ended this a long time ago, Eskel,” she told him. “I provide for myself and I live the life I want. As for children…” She reached out and traced a scar on his shoulder. “If I wanted those, all I have to do is visit my brother. His wife just gave birth to twins and she needs all the help she can get raising two babies.”

He blinked. “So you don’t want to end this?”

“No. Do you?”

He pulled her to him. “No.”

She smoothed her hand across his back. “Where will you go next?”

“There’s rumor of a big contract out West. I think I’m going to see what it’s all about.”

She did the travel times in her head. At least two months to get there, another two to return, and who knew how many months in between. It could be another year or longer before she saw him again. “All right.” Rolling out of bed, she slipped on a shirt he had left two years prior and began taking items out of her pantry for him to take on his trip.

He was dressed and arming himself when she made it back up from the cellar with his pack stocked and ready to go. “Take care of yourself while you’re out there?” she asked, quickly pulling on a skirt to see him off in.

“I will. You’ll do the same?”

She nodded. “I will.” She stood outside her door as he readied Scorpion. She gave the stallion a fond scratch behind the ears that earned her an affectionate head nudge. “Take care of him,” she whispered against the horse’s mane. Looking up, she gave Eskel’s knee a final pat before stepping away.

He made it a few feet past her house before he wheeled Scorpion back. Not waiting to come to a complete stop, he dismounted and strode up to her. Scooping her up, he kissed her, his actions saying every endearment he never spoke aloud for him.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he murmured, brushing the side of his nose against hers.

She pressed herself tighter against him, not caring if the studs on his armor bit into her skin. “I’ll be here,” she answered, her fingers carding through his hair. Eskel gave her one last kiss before swinging himself into the saddle and riding off, this time without giving her a backwards glance.

She went back inside and began her day. It would take some time getting used to making meals for only one person again, but she’d manage. Taking her bowl of porridge into bed, she set it on the nightstand and curled up in the blankets, inhaling the masculine scent that still lingered in the sheets. She frowned when her fingers met something cold on her side of the bed. Pulling the pillow aside, she shook her head. There, winking up at her in the early morning light, was a simple yet beautifully made pendant out of some stone she couldn’t identify. Sliding it over her head, she couldn’t help but smile. He’d never been one to regularly give gifts and she never expected any, which made any of the rare ones he happened to give in his own offhand way all the more precious.

What they had wasn’t the most conventional of relationships, but he wasn’t the most conventional of men. While she missed him when they were apart, she knew that she couldn’t tether him to one spot and he knew that she couldn’t leave her family to follow after him. They made what they had work and it was enough for both of them.

She rubbed her thumb against the stone. He probably didn’t mean to pick it for that reason, but it was almost the exact color of his eyes. Bringing the pendant up to her lips, she gave it a fond kiss.

It was enough.


	2. Thirty-One Years

Water splashed as Eskel settled further into the wooden tub. He’d given it to her as a gift many years ago, and he was always grateful for her having it, especially when he came to her after a long ride and his body ached with every jostle. This new horse he had wasn’t Scorpion, but the stallion was from similar stock. It was young and they were still trying to get to know the other.

“The alderman’s son is planning on taking up the title,” she said, bringing him out of his thoughts. She leaned behind him, her hands lovingly running over his shoulders to ease the knots of tension she found.

Eskel held onto her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Is he? I always liked him.” He’d missed this while he was out on the Path: the easy conversation, the quiet intimacy. He hadn’t seen her in nearly five years, and he’d missed her dearly.

She made a small noise of agreement and he heard the quiet shift of clothes as they fell to the floor. “The boy’s twenty-six. My brother told me that he’s been by his home to ask for my niece’s hand.” The water level rose as she stepped in with him, her back settling against his chest. He moved his arms from the rim of the tub so he could wrap them around her.

“Oh? I take it that your brother agreed to the match?”

She nodded. “It was hard _not_ to agree. The two of them have known the other since childhood. One look and anyone can see just how much in love they are. He’s smitten.”

“And she’s a clever woman.” Eskel had to grin. Over the years, he’d become another member of her family, her niece and nephew even calling him Uncle. He’d been the one to personally teach his honorary niece how to defend herself with daggers and short blades, should the need ever arise. He cared about both children, yet the girl was his favorite, mostly because she took after her father’s side of the family and had a strong resemblance to her aunt. There had been many times over the years where her parents would leave her and her brother in her aunt’s care while they tended to their fields and it had been far too easy to daydream about another life, one where monsters and Witchers didn’t exist and children called him Father instead of Uncle. “It’s a trait that every man needs at his side, especially when beautiful women tend to make our thoughts vanish into thin air.”

She chuckled. “Well, I guess I know where I stand with you,” she teased. “You’re a rather intelligent man.”

He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. “I have years of experience working through the stupor you’ve enchanted me in to fall back on.”

“Charmer.” She tilted her head to catch his lips with her own.

“Only with you.” He leaned back and smiled. “So I guess your niece is the talk of the town nowadays?”

“Well, there’s another subject that gets some circulation every so often.”

“What is it?”

Her hand wrapped around his forearm where he had it resting against her collarbone. “Us. We’ve become something of a local legend, you and I.”

He stiffened under her touch. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Most of the stories are quite complimentary. According to some, you’re the reason the area around our village is completely free of monsters.”

He grunted. It was the truth; whenever he came to her, he spent many of his days clearing out or preventing monster nests from getting started. He had to say, the village’s perception of him was a welcome one, the villagers’ speaking to him in a friendly fashion when he stayed on long enough to interact with them. It was a nice change from being sneered at, spat upon, or looked at with fear due to his scars. “What else do they say?”

“That you come and go with the seasons, but no matter how far away you are or how long you’re gone, our love is still as strong as ever.” She bent her head and kissed his arm. “Does it bother you?”

He shook his head. “No. But you said _most_ of the stories are complimentary.”

She shrugged. “Some of the younger girls call it nonsense. They think I can’t hear them when I walk by, but they ask how something so wonderful can be true about an old woman.”

“You aren’t old.”

She laughed. “Eskel, I’m fifty-five. Trust me, Love, I most certainly am old.”

He lifted his hand from its resting place and ran his fingers through her loose hair. Sure, there had been more silver in it than his last visit, and the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth were just a little more pronounced, but she was still as beautiful as ever to him. “You don’t look a day over –”

She stopped him. “That’s because you’re biased.” Turning around in his arms, she straddled his hips with her knees and framed his face with her hands. “This body of mine has many years of wear on it.” She looked away and bit her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“You should find someone else,” she said. “Look at me; how could you want this?”

He frowned. “How can you ask something like that from me?   You know better than anyone that I don’t care what outside appearances look like.”

“I’m old.”

“And I’m older.”

“I look as if I could be your mother.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Then I have an incredibly attractive mother.”

She swatted at his chest. “I’m being serious, Eskel.”

He held onto her hand. “As am I. I don’t _care_ what you look like, or what people might say behind our back. And I don’t think that you care what people say either, or else you would have ended this at least twenty-five years ago.”

She sighed. “You’re right, I don’t care. It’s just that…”

“Just that what?”

She glanced up at him under her lashes. “How can you still find me desirable? Parts are sagging where they didn’t used to, I’m not as flexible as I once was, and…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Didn’t I just say I didn’t care what you looked like? I love you for _you_ , not how you used to be. And as far as not being as flexible,” his mouth curved upwards as his hands roamed. “It sure didn’t stop you from what we did when I first got here today.”

“Careful. It’s only a matter of time before I turn into a short, chubby old lady.”

Now his grin was positively wolfish. “Then I’ll be known as the Witcher who chases short, chubby old ladies around to have my wicked way with them.” He tilted his head. “What would you do, if our spots were reversed? If I were asking you how you could love an old man far past his prime?”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’d say that I didn’t care. And I’d also say that I’d be a woman known for chasing around attractive old men.” The last was said with a smile and Eskel could finally see the wall of self-doubt she had built around her crumble.

“Good, because I’d be one hell of a lecherous old man who only had eyes for a certain woman.” He swallowed her laugh with his lips as he rose from the tub, his arms easily lifting her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist for support as he blindly walked over to her bed.

They made love slowly, all the frantic energy from their first coupling sated. Even after years of being apart, both of them still knew what made the other sigh and gasp in pleasure. After, Eskel gathered her in his arms and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her forehead.

“How long can you stay this time?” she quietly asked, her leg twining around his.

He sighed. “Not long. Lambert contacted me; he needs mine and Geralt’s help on something. I should have already been headed there, but…” Her home had been far out of the way, but he had missed her too much to stay away, especially in light of whatever Lambert had issues with. He knew his fellow Witcher, he wouldn’t have called them all in together if it wasn’t for something big. On the off chance that he wouldn’t make it out of the situation, Eskel had wanted to spend one last night wrapped up in his lady’s arms.

She nodded, knowing that their time was short. Kissing his shoulder, she drew him closer to her. “My niece’s wedding is on the first day of spring. I know that she’d be thrilled if you could make it.”

He was quiet for the longest time and she thought he had drifted off. Then she felt his lips against her hair. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

When she woke the next morning, he was already gone. She dressed and looked out her window, a brief prayer for his safety slipping past her lips. Her eyes strayed to the table, where a small sack of coins and a pretty ring sat. _My share of the wedding gifts_ , was all a note said. She placed both items in the trunk at the foot of her bed, her heart light. Tradition was that the bride’s family would present gifts to the groom. Eskel had promised her that he’d be there to do his part, and she believed him.

He was never one to break his word.


	3. Sixty-Five Years

“Eskel! You’re back!”

He smiled at her as he entered the door. “I wasn’t gone long,” he said, his voice light.

She put her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow. “Two years is a long time, Love.”

His smile faltered. He used putting more wood in the pile near the hearth as an excuse to hide his sad expression. “I guess you’re right. I can make up for it though.”

She came up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “How?”

He was careful how he held her nowadays. She seemed so frail in his arms. “I’m staying for a long time,” he finally decided on, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

“How long can you stay? My niece is about to have her first baby, you know.”

He rested his chin on her head. “I know. I’m going to stay for it.”

“And after?”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with affection. “That’s a very long time.” Then she blinked, and looked at him warily. “I’m sorry, but who are you? What are you doing in my home?”

He took a step back. “I’m Eskel. I’ve brought you more firewood.” He gestured to the pile he had brought in.

“Oh. You must be new around this village. I’ve been here so long, I’ve seen plenty of people come and go. Why won’t you stay for lunch and tell me about yourself? I have some soup that I’m willing to share.”

He nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you for your hospitality.” He watched as she shuffled her way to the kitchen, spooning soup he had made for them that very morning into two bowls. With her back turned, she didn’t hear his dejected sigh. This wasn’t one of her good days, but at least it wasn’t one of her bad ones. On those, she failed to recognize him and grew fearful. Those days were few and far between, but each time they happened was like a knife in Eskel’s heart.

Her memory hadn’t always been this bad. Even at eighty-five, her family members had teased her about having a mind like a steel trap, recalling events and happenings that many younger people in their village knew nothing about. Then around her eighty-seventh year, she had started forgetting small details. It hadn’t worried anyone until the day that her great-nephew had come running down the lane yelling for Eskel, saying that she had wandered off and no one could find her. It hadn’t taken Eskel long to pick up her tracks, but after finding her confused and disoriented that day, her mind had quickly deteriorated. She lived more in the past than in the present, and they all had learned to slowly reintroduce themselves to her when she didn’t recognize them. Her niece was a constant visitor, and there were many times where she would pull Eskel aside and thank him for staying. He merely shook his head and told her that if he hadn’t left his lady’s side these past twenty years, he wasn’t about to leave her when she needed him the most.

* * *

 

She died on a Tuesday at the age of eighty-nine. It had been one of her good, lucid days: she and Eskel had spent the day together, Eskel grateful to have her back with him one last time.

_“I’m not afraid,”_ she had told him as they watched the sun go down together. _“Of death. I’ve lived a long, full life. I don’t have any regrets.”_ She had looked up at him, a wry smirk on her lips. _“Well, maybe one regret. I never turned into that chubby old lady you promised to chase around and have your wicked way with.”_

He had laughed as he sat next to her. His hands covered hers: her skin paper-thin to the point where it was easy to see the knotted veins at the backs of her palms. _“Doesn’t matter,”_ he had replied, kissing her brow. _“Just being with you is enough.”_

She had coughed then, and he had heard the rattle in her chest that had slowly been getting worse. That night he’d helped her into bed, wrapped his arms around her, listened as she slept, then listened as her labored breath quietly came to a stop.

They buried her on a Thursday. He was thankful to see that the entire village had turned out to pay their respects to one of their oldest members. He’d stood stoically at her graveside throughout the funeral rites, watching as the last of the mourners made their way to the local tavern to start the wake.

“You’re leaving.” Eskel looked up from the mound of dirt and saw her – _his_ – niece standing there, her youngest grandson perched on her hip. At fifty-seven, she looked so much like his lady had looked at that age that Eskel’s heart _ached_.

“I…yes.”

She nodded. “I asked her why she stayed with you all these years once, you know.” She hitched the boy higher. “You’d been gone for another long stretch of time. I’d been angry because I had missed you being around and had asked her why she hadn’t moved on.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that one day I’d understand how she felt. One of these days I’d fall in love with a man and realize that I would love him no matter what. She knew that you weren’t one to stay in one place for long and that caging you here would have meant that your love would have eventually soured. Then she gave me that little smile she always had when she knew more than she was letting on and told me that if I really loved something, I would let it go. If it never came back, then it was never yours to begin with.” She gave him a pointed look. “You always came back.”

“I could never stay away from her.”

“And now that she’s gone, you’re not coming back.” It wasn’t a question. She looked him in the eye and they both knew his answer. Hefting up her grandson, she offered the boy to him. “Here, hold him. He should have some memory of his great-grand-uncle, especially since he’s named after you.”

He couldn’t help the slight smile as he held the boy, the toddler engrossed in playing with his medallion. “I want to stay,” he confessed. “But I helped bury your parents, then I helped bury your husband, and now I’ve buried her.” He looked up from the boy’s rosy cheeks and leveled a stare at her. “Don’t ask me to stay and bury you as well.”

She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I couldn’t ask that of you.” She squeezed him tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Uncle Eskel.”

He slung one arm around her and hugged her back. “I’m going to miss you, too,” he said, pressing his lips against her hair. He hefted his namesake up to eye level and kissed the boy’s cheek before handing him back. He pulled something out of his pocket. “I want you to have this.”

She stared at the pendant he held out before accepting it. “My aunt never took that off,” she breathed, her fingers tracing the stone. “You should keep it, to remember her by.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need anything to remember her. It’s all in here,” he gestured to his head before placing his palm over his heart. “And in here.”

She threw her free arm around him for one last fierce hug. “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered.

Eskel ran his hand down her hair, much like he had done when she had been a child. “Nor I you.” He stepped back and turned towards the house he had called home for so long. It took him a while to pack up the precious few things he couldn’t bear to part with before he dressed in his old set of armor. The brigandine fit a little snugger than it had the last time he had worn it, but he knew that it would quickly fit again as he continued on the Path. He’d been out of the monster hunting game for nearly twenty years: he’d have a lot of catching up to do. Buckling his swords on his back, he went outside and saddled up his horse. Mounting, he slowly made his way down the familiar trail leading out of the village.

He didn’t look back.

* * *

As luck would have it, he ran into Lambert during his first month back. The two of them always did have a way of meeting on the road. Lambert welcomed him as only Lambert could: with good-natured jibes at Eskel’s poorly fitting armor and an offer of drinks at the nearest tavern.

“I’m sorry,” he said, swirling the ale in his mug thoughtfully. “I know how much she meant to you.”

“Thanks.” He stared at the drink in front of him. “She always liked you. Thought you were a prickly son of a bitch, but she liked it when you visited.”

That earned him a laugh. “She always did tell it like it was. For what it’s worth, I really liked her too.”

They were silent, just taking in the sounds of the tavern around them. “You should find someone else,” Lambert said, breaking the quiet. He looked up to see Eskel open his mouth and cut him off. “Not right away, but eventually. She would have wanted you to.”

Eskel drained his tankard and sighed. “You’re right, she would have. I just…” he sighed again. “Not yet.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow. “Well, whenever you’re ready, look me up. I’ve got some prime contracts on a couple of succubi I’d be willing to part with to get you back in the swing of things.”

Eskel rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, very much.”

“That’s what the succubi are for, my friend!” He laughed when Eskel kicked at him under the table. “But seriously, you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Hell, you know you’re like a brother to me. But speaking of contracts, I heard there’s a good one out East. If you don’t mind sharing the bounty, I wouldn’t mind you tagging along. Knock the rust off your silver sword and all that.”

Eskel let out a rusty sounding chuckle. “You ever get any better with negotiating prices, or am I going to have to drum up a higher price?”

“I’ll have you know that I can be _very_ charming.”

“Which means I’ll be the one doing all the talking, like usual.”

“Ha ha. Fuck off.”

“Thought that was what the succubus contract was for.” He grinned when Lambert flipped him off as he stood to fetch another round for them. Alone, Eskel stared at his wrist. There, hidden underneath his glove, was a bracelet made from braided knots. Lover’s knots, she’d told him when she had presented it to him so long ago. _So no matter how far apart we are, we’ll always be together._ He’d made sure that she had been buried with the matching bracelet he’d made for her years and years ago. It wasn’t as neatly constructed as the one he wore, but she had loved it nonetheless.

He absently rubbed at his hand, his fingers ghosting over his wrist. “Not yet,” he murmured. Maybe he’d try to find someone else years down the road when he eventually forgot the exact color of her hair or the sound of her laugh. Maybe he could devote himself to another woman once time softened her memory and he could think of her without the sharp pang of grief stabbing him in the chest.

Until then, he wasn’t ready to let her go.


End file.
